


[S] Try Again?

by the_foxiest_box



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, tagging for violence just in case, you never know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 07:58:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2644202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_foxiest_box/pseuds/the_foxiest_box
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The disease that dwells deep within you and pulsates in harmony with your bloodpusher is called love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	[S] Try Again?

**Author's Note:**

> Eyyyy lmao I wrote this SUPER thought out Karezi fic back in September. (which I’d originally planned to have done for Sept. 2 BUT WHOOPS)
> 
> The reason I’m only just posting it now is due to the fact that I tried to get this fic illustrated! Me and [meow-meowrails]() were working together, me writing the fic, and she drawing two illustrations for it! I wanna thank her from the bottom of my heart for putting up with me and offering to help me! Unfortunately, her tablet broke recently, and she was unable to complete any of the illustrations. ;u;
> 
> PLEASE HELP HER OUT BY [COMMISSIONING](http://meow-meowrails.tumblr.com/search/homestuck+commissions) THIS LOVELY LADY SO SHE CAN BUY A NEW TABLET!!
> 
> Anyway, the fic is unillustrated (for now) and I’m very excited to share it. It’s basically based off of my psychology that Trolls do not (naturally) feel human “love”. Until Karkat does. This was also heavily inspired by [karkinophile's lovely art work!!]()
> 
> Please enjoy!

           "Terezi!!" She's alive. She's okay. "Thank god, you're okay!"

            In that moment, you'd dropped all of your current thoughts and just ran towards her. It was a miracle, you thought for sure she had died. It was only when she turned toward you that you could see the blood that coated the blades she was gripping. You didn't have to ask whose blood it was—you already knew. Another teammate had bit the dust. Arivederchi, Serket. Casualties had rapidly become a normality as your team slowly went insane on the tiny meteor you'd all taken refuge in.

            "Karkat-" She let her blades clatter to the ground noisily.

            You just threw your arms around her. You weren't going to loose her again. All of you had just been to hell and back within only a few hours. It was during those hours that you realized the true definition of terrifying. You'd watched multiple friends as they were killed by other friends, and you couldn't do a damn thing. But you'd made it. You were holding Terezi Pyrope safely in your arms, and you never wanted to let her go. It's then that you realized that you were crying, and she was too.

            "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." She was falling to pieces.

            She shouldn't have been sorry, but you couldn't say a thing in your current mental state, so you just squeezed her tighter. She was real. This wasn't a mirage. Terezi Pyrope was living and breathing in your arms—you were not dreaming. You realized you were shaking violently, or maybe it was just Terezi. Maybe it's both of you. God fucking damn, you'd never been more terrified in your entire life, and it was all over a single soul's well being.

            "Never again," you finally hiccuped, "I can't loose you so easily."

            And that's when she gave a small, teasing laugh, "You're such a worrywart."

            There was some alarming, pulsating sensation in your chest that you swore you'd felt before—something you didn't have a name for. It strangled you and jumped down your protein chute, filling you with all these mixed emotions that made no sense. It was a sensation that urged you to be closer to Terezi. It screamed for you to touch and kiss her, and you didn't  understand at all.

            Of course, you'd been warned about the "feeling" before. On Alternia, you were constantly told about an emotion like this. They told you it was evil, and a danger to anyone exposed to it. They called it a disease—something that must be cured at all costs. You never saw or understood how such an emotion could be dangerous, but if The Highbloods told you it was wrong, then it was wrong. And now to think that you were suffering from that "fatal disease". It scared you. You were afraid of the things that you were feeling.

            If you don't pity nor hate someone, what do you call it? There was a word for that sensation... But you can't quite remember what it was.

 

**-**

 

**[S] GAME OVER.**

 

 

**[S] Try Again?**

 

             _Love_.

            The disease that dwells deep within you and pulsates in harmony with your bloodpusher is called love. Such a vulgar and disgusting word it was back at home. If you so much as muttered it under your breath in the wrong context, they'd have your head in two seconds flat. 

            But they were wrong. Love  _can_  be beautiful. It's not a completely evil feeling. However, love could be sickening too—you learned that the hard way. As ironic as it was, you learned that love in itself could create jealousy, war, rebellion, and bloodshed. 

            Love is longing to be with one person, and that person only—selfishness and that the same time, selflessness.

            It's been a while since you "discovered" that you loved the girl. A sweep or so, maybe. Terezi Pyrope is heaped before you, battered, bruised, and bloody. Between you and she, Terezi has definitely taken the larger toll of love's wrath, all because you were a huge douche. (Being a douche is a side effect of love, you figured.) Love brought confusion unto you. For sweeps, you were convinced that you pitied the girl, but when your feelings began to transcend the flushed quadrant, you'd jumped to kismesisitude. That didn't fit your feelings either. Thus, you'd spent most of your repulsive adolescence not only confusing yourself, but confusing her as well. No wonder she got up and left you behind. You hurt her.

            "...Terezi...?" You whisper and let your hand graze her bloody cheek. 

            It's just you and she and the wreckage of your universe. Jet engines blaring, terrified screaming, and frantic shouting are all you can hear, but somehow, it still feels as if you and the girl lying before you are the only two left in the universe. The way things are going, you know you'll all be dead soon. It's now or never—you need to resolve the issues between you and she before it's all over. Despite this, you have a disturbing sense of déjà vu, as if all of this has happened before, yet differently. 

            "Karkat..." Her voice is horse and scratchy.

            "Hey." Fucking 'hey'. Is that all you can say?

            By the looks of it, she's unable to move. You wonder what it must feel like to be in so much pain you can hardly move. The corners of her mouth draw upward into a forced smile. The whole scene makes you want to cry, vomit, and scream all at once.

            "Why are you here?" Is she for real?

            "Why am I here?" You're frustrated by her inquiry. Why wouldn't you be here? Did she expect you to just leave her to die? "I'm here to rescue you because you're injured! Do I really have to fucking spell it out for you?" 

            "I'm fine," she mutters, and struggles to move around, "I don't need to be rescued."

            "Terezi, that nightmare of a mime probably fractured your spine!!" You try and keep her from getting up in order to prevent further damage.

            "... Is he gone...?" She relaxes under your restraint.

            You don't dare look at the mess behind you. You've puked enough for one day.

            You swallow the bump in your throat and simply nod, "...Yeah."

            For a while you say nothing. You simply reposition yourself by her side, and replay the last ten minutes over and over again in your head. Those images don't help your current state of anxiety. For one thing, you're trembling quite a bit, and you can no longer tell the difference between tears and blood on your face.

            Finally, you sigh and give her your best, "I'm sorry."

            She's unresponsive for a moment or two, and you begin to wonder if she passed out from all the pain. But just as you're giving up, she responds with a small, sarcastic whine.

            "No, you're not." 

            ...What?

            "Wh- why not?" You're angry and confused. Why can't she accept your apology?

            "Do you realize how many times you've told me you're sorry, Karkat?" That was-... a lot. Quite a lot, actually. "Your empty apologies stopped meaning anything to me a long time a-ago..."

            The moment you hear her voice crack, you reach for the blindfold. The thing is dank with tears and blood, and you slowly lift it off her eyes, confirming your suspicion that she'd been crying. Her eyes flutter open, adjusting to the newfound light. Oh, those eyes—those gorgeous bright blue irises that were once burned such a pure shade of red.

            "You hurt me too, Karkat!" She exclaims, a sad smile on her lips, "He wasn't the only one!" 

            You won't deny that. You'd toyed with her emotions. You'd played mind games with her. You'd teased and tortured her about her romantic life. Yes, you have most certainly hurt Terezi Pyrope. You've come to learn another thing about love today. Love hurts not only you, but those around you as well.

            "Well, listen to me now, would'ja?" You grasp her clammy hand, "I wanna apologize right now for everything." You pause, preparing yourself for the endless list of apologies, "I'm sorry for being a shitty friend. I'm sorry for being a shitty leader. I'm sorry for playing with your bloodpusher and breaking it. I'm sorry I let Gamzee hurt you. I'm sorry, god damn it!! I'm so sorry, Terezi!"

            Terezi extends her other hand to you, looking to be held. Did she just accept your apology? You don't hesitate to carefully embrace her, caressing her back as gently as possible. As soon as you noticed how shallow her breathing was, it occurred to you that she may be running out of time. You were all running out of time. 

            "I hope you realize how special you are," she gives you one of the most affectionate looks you've ever seen from anyone ever, "Even though you fucked up a lot."

            There it is. The love. The warmth deep in your chest. The longing to be closer to Terezi than you already are. The desire to touch and kiss her and keep her safe _._  All at once you're overcome with this strange emotion you never thought you were capable of—something you were taught not to feel. You remember all those times you've felt so incredibly in love with the girl in your arms, and all that time you thought those feelings were describable by quadrants. But now you know—your feelings for Terezi Pyrope transcend the four quadrants.

            "I'm gonna tell you something crazy," you inhale shakily, shoulders hitching, "Listen up, because I'm not gonna repeat this, alright?" 

            She nods understandingly. Finally, after all these sweeps, you have Terezi's full attention. 

            "I don't pity you. I don't hate you. After pouring endless cinematic shit into my thinkpan, I figured out that it's more than that... and I know I must sound crazy but..." You swallow, gazing down into her bright eyes, "W-what I'm trying to spit out here is..."

            You can't do it. You're frozen stiff. To other trolls, love is sin. Telling another troll that you love them is simply ludicrous. It's obscene, profound, and unheard of. Love is a disease, you remind yourself. Should you really be spreading such an illness?

            Your thoughts are interrupted by a familiar cackly giggle from your lap. Terezi is... laughing? Why is she laughing at you!? Why now of all times? As she laughs, you watch the tears come streaming through those long eyelashes you so adored. 

            "You idiot..." She reaches up to your face, rubbing the tears away, before pulling your head closer to hers. Your thinkpan is too slow and clogged with bullshit for you to realize what's about to happen.

            And just like that, you're kissing her. This wasn't a first kiss for the both of you, but this one was more meaningful. This kiss had an energy that seemed to amplify yet sooth the pulsating desire within your bloodpusher. Her lips are chapped and quite cold, but you couldn't care less because they're her lips, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

            "I  **love**  you, god damn it. I really do. I know it's sick, and I know it's a crime but-" she's still smiling at you as you lay nose to nose, "Oh fuck, I really love you. I really do."

            Your bloodpusher is racing, your breathing is sporadic, but the calm look on her face which you haven't seen in so long tells you she understands, and is experiencing the exact same disease.

             _Love_.

**Author's Note:**

> “To say ‘I love you’ one must first know how to say the ‘I.’"
> 
> \- Ayn Rand


End file.
